The Deeds of the Son
by DarkwingPsycho
Summary: After his father's mysterious disappearance, young Drake tries everything to keep his family together.  A companion to The Sins of the Father.  Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This is the long-awaited sequel to _The Sins of the Father_. Reading the first story is recommended but not necessary. I don't have a lot of free time, so there will be long periods without updates, but I would love feedback on this and any of my other stories. Also, I hate the formatting on this website.

**Disclaimer:** Darkwing and J. Gander Hooter are property of The Walt Disney Company. The rest of these poor souls are mine.

"_The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children."_

_Shakespeare, _The Merchant of Venice

The Deeds of the Son

By DarkwingPsycho

_1976_

Drake's feet pounded against the pavement in time with his racing heart, and he felt at any moment he would burst. He hoped at least he would be able to tell his parents what had happened before he did.

It had been the best day of his ten-year-long life. He had learned so much, had stood up to a gang of bullies, and had met a real-life superhero. Had it not been for the backward hat covering his face and the dress shirt flailing behind his undersized frame, he would have thought it all a dream. Even so, he could hardly believe it, and that was what made it so exciting.

He had run all the way from the downtown district, refusing a ride from the police even though it was well past sundown. After all, he was a superhero now, and he wanted to prove to everyone that he could do _any_thing he wanted to. He couldn't wait to see the look of pride on his parents' faces…especially his father's. It was the thing he wanted most in the world, and something he had never seemed to be able to attain.

Jacob Mallard worked extremely long hours at SHUSH, a super-secret spy organization for which he did a lot of dangerous undercover work around town. Exactly what his father _did_ while undercover was a mystery to Drake. Instead of worrying about it too much, Drake liked to think that his father was akin to Derek Blunt from the movies or Duck Tracy from the comics, because that was how Jacob portrayed himself whenever he told work stories. Although Jacob was rarely home to spend time with his family, Drake idolized him with as much admiration as any young son would his father.

It was the rare afternoon or evening Jacob was actually home before Drake went to bed that were his favorites. They played catch or wrestled, and at times Jacob would regale Drake with a story about his exploits as a secret agent. It didn't matter if they were made up or not, Drake just loved spending the time together. Even when his father had to work from home in his study he seemed a million miles away, and Drake missed his father sorely when he was working. Increasingly in the last few years, Drake had noticed a sadness growing in his father's eyes. It was something he had always wanted to ask his father about, but had never had the courage to.

Subconsciously his prepubescent mind believed that when he told his father that he was now a superhero, he could take that sadness away and everything would be wonderful. After all, it was at his father's urging that he had started reading about Super Pig and Duck Tracy. Why _wouldn't_ Jacob be proud to have a _real_ such individual as a son? Drake could save anybody now, and the person he wanted to rescue most was his dad.

The two-story peach colored home surrounded by a white picket fence scuttled into view as Drake rounded the corner past his elementary school. His lungs burned and his feet ached, but nothing could extinguish the pure joy he felt.

Darkwing Drakey…that had a nice ring to it.

Circles of light spotted the cracking pavement of Pintail Trace beneath weathered street lamps, and all of the houses were dark and silent. Stars glittered down from the dark blue heavens, and Drake was just imagining himself blasting off toward them when something else caught his eye, nearly making him stumble bill-first into the sidewalk. A brown jalopy was pulling out of his driveway, and though he couldn't be certain in the darkness, it had looked like Uncle John's car.

He wondered if the gander had come over for dinner, as he sometimes did, then he stopped to think about the lateness of the hour. His mother was probably worried or angry at him since he was hours past curfew, and the thought sobered him a little. Still, how could she be angry once she found out what had happened? Too bad Uncle John wouldn't be there to hear! He would be amazed too.

A surge of energy exploded in his little body over the last few feet, and he threw himself through the gate and up to the front door in an excited frenzy.

"Mom!" he shouted gleefully as soon as he'd stepped over the threshold. "Mom, guess what! You're never going to believe…"

It felt like someone had tossed a heavy blanket over him when he entered the dining room. The air was thick and chill, the room itself noiseless as an abyss, sucking away every ounce of happiness in his duckling heart. What struck him most, however, was the sight of his mother.

She sat at the head of the table with her head in her hands, her golden hair surrounding her like a habit, and her normally pristine feathers were ashen and ruffled. Had she not been sniffling and had her shoulders not been trembling slightly, Drake might have thought she was dead.

All thought of what had happened to him that day vanished in the instant she jerked her head up with a start, scaring them both. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed with the tears that she was still shedding, and in the light of the hollow room the color of her irises seemed all the more bright and unreal as they shone with emotion. Her glasses lay just beyond her elbows, and when she recognized her son, she hastily wiped at her eyes and placed them crookedly back on her bill.

"Drake…" she sniffled, reaching for a clean tissue among the pile of used ones next to her. "Where have you been…? I've been so worried…"

"I'm home now, Momma," he said cautiously, trying to read her with little success. "I didn't mean to make you cry…"

"Oh, Drakey." She mustered a minute smile, but it was as empty as her eyes. "It's not that…it's…"

With a steadiness Drake wasn't even aware he possessed, he reached out and touched his mother's arm. "You can tell me, Momma. I'm a big boy now. And if it's a secret, I won't tell anybody. I promise."

Her gaze met his, and he felt inexplicably unnerved. A shiver went through him. She pulled him into her lap, holding him against her chest so fiercely he could hardly breathe, and stroked the feathers on top of his head absently. "What are we going to do, little one…?"

He felt the unmistakable wetness of tears falling onto his forehead. "Momma, why was Uncle John here?"

She started shaking again, and Drake felt guilty for making her more upset. He pulled back from her so that he could look up at her stricken face.

"Don't worry…Dad will know what to do."

A wail of anguish burst out of Gail's throat, and she shook her head, causing some of the tangled tendrils of hair to latch themselves to her tear-stained cheeks. "No he won't, Drake!" she cried mournfully. "No he won't! Don't you understand?"

He regarded her with a concern he didn't fully comprehend, and she took a breath before letting the horrible truth fall flatly from her lips.

"Your father is missing."

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, it seemed as if a dark cloud had descended over the Mallard household. No one spoke to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then the words were empty and devoid of emotion. Drake could tell that his mother was doing her best to remain optimistic for her children, but neither of them were fooled by her hollow smiles and promises that their father would be back. It was hard to keep faith in a man who had seemed so uninterested in connecting with them.<p>

Drake's older sister, Carrie, acted as though nothing had happened at all, and began spending more and more time with her friends from school to escape the dismal atmosphere of home. Drake dove into his comic books. When he was following the feats of daring heroes he so wanted to be like, it was almost like his father wasn't really gone. The super spies and flying do-gooders eased Drake's longing to see Jacob again, and it made it easier for Drake to pretend Jacob was stuck at work or was away on a top-secret mission. There was still hope that his father could be found and would come home, and Drake wasn't about to give up. Not as long as there were heroes in the world. He knew Uncle John had men out looking for his father, and he trusted the SHUSH director to find him.

There was a gentle knock on his bedroom door, but Drake kept his beak buried in _The Adventures of Super Pig_. His mother peeked in.

"Drakey, dinner's ready…"

"I'm not hungry."

"It's not good for you to be skipping meals…besides, I made your favorite."

"No thanks, Momma, I need to do more research."

Gail raised an eyebrow behind her small spectacles and approached her young son curiously. "Research for what?"

"So I can get Dad back. If Uncle John and SHUSH can't find him, then I'll do it myself. I know if he's in trouble, I can rescue him! I just have to practice some of these moves and learn how to use these gadgets…like Super Pig and Derek Blunt! Or Darkwing Du…I mean, Duck Tracy!"

She smiled and eyed the comic book with some amusement. Drake was so much like his father, full of enthusiasm and ambition, but failing to see the fault in his dreams. As much as she wanted to keep her son grounded, she would never be the one to tell him when he couldn't do something. The edge of the mattress sank slightly with her weight.

"Do you want to know the secret of Super Pig's power? Or where Derek Blunt gets his wit and charm?"

"Oh, that's easy," Drake responded matter-of-factly, pointing to a page in his comic. "Super Pig gets his super powers from the Trough of Triumph! And Derek Blunt was just born like that, I guess." The ten-year-old was silent for a few moments before sighing and closing the comic book. "I'll never be like them, will I?"

"That's only true if you believe it, Drakey," Gail said gently, brushing back her son's unruly hair feathers. "But you know…I met Derek Blunt."

Immediately Drake's eyes popped wide open. "You did? What was he like? Does he really have a robotic car? Can he really –"

"Ssh, ssh, let me finish!" Gail laughed. "He told me the secret of how to be a true hero… Do you want to know what it is?"

"_Yes!_" Drake whooped, bouncing on the bed and eagerly leaning toward his mother.

"All right. Derek Blunt said that the secret to being a true hero is to eat all of your vegetables and do exactly as your mother tells you."

Drake pouted and sat back on his webbed feet, completely disappointed. "Aww, Mom…"

"It's true," she said reassuringly. "Eating your vegetables helps you build muscle, so you can defeat those baddies without even trying! And the best part is, if you listen to your mother, you'll grow up with all of the wit and charm you'll need to outsmart your enemies."

"Well…I guess…" Drake replied dubiously.

Gail smiled and wrapped her son in her arms. "I know you'll be a great mallard one day. But right now, just…be a great kid, okay?"

Drake nodded and looked up into her hazel eyes. "Mom? If I eat all of my vegetables…can I have a Koo-Koo Cola float afterward?"

"We'll see. Come on, now. Supper's getting cold."

"Hey, how come Carrie doesn't have to eat dinner too?" Drake wondered aloud after he'd followed his mother to the dining room table and slid into his chair. They both looked over at his sister's vacant seat, and at the same time avoided his father's.

Gail frowned slightly, then looked at her watch. "She should have been back by now. She knows what time dinner is. She must still be out with that boy."

"That boy" was Cameron Reedman, captain of the St. Canard High School football team, and Carrie's most recent boyfriend.

Gail looked worriedly out of the dining room window toward the street. "She's coming home later and later these days…" Though it was a comment more to herself than to Drake, the duckling began to take on some of his mother's worry. He and Carrie had never been that close, having been born five years apart, but he felt that the both of them should be there to help their mother while their father was gone. Even though he was young, it didn't escape his understanding that Gail was struggling to keep herself together.

Still, he _was _ten years old. He looked down at his plate. "If Carrie isn't here to eat her vegetables, does that mean I still have to eat mine?"

"Yes."

He frowned. "That's not fair… Maybe I should stay out late and miss dinner, too."

"That's not funny, Drakey. Now put down that comic book and eat your food."

"Aww, Mom!" he cried, incredulous that she had seen through his misdirection and knew about the comic he'd slipped downstairs with him. Reluctantly he pulled it out from beneath his shirt and set it on top of the chair nearest him…his father's chair.

Briefly Drake stared at the empty spot and missed Jacob terribly, but he didn't want to upset his mother by reminding her of her husband's absence, so the duckling sat back upright quickly and gulped down a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Ifs gup, Nom," he said through chipmunk cheeks.

Gail laughed at her son. "Drakey, not such big bites! Slow down, or you'll get a stomachache."

He swallowed and grinned. "Okay, Momma." It was at that moment, as he watched his mother quietly eat her food, that Drake made a vow to himself that would carry him for the next three years. It would be up to him to keep his family's hope alive for Jacob's safe return, and he would do anything to keep that hope in place. Even though he couldn't quite grasp its significance, he knew that having that faith would keep them together.


	2. Chapter 2

Drake's interest in school peaked that year. His favorite subjects had always been science and reading, but he made a determined effort to pay more attention in every subject and to be more interactive. In his mind, education would be another important tool for him to rely on in his mission to find his father. The heroes he saw on the silver screen and read about in the comics weren't Neanderthals. They were intelligent, quick-witted, and formidable, and they used a lot of big words. Drake couldn't wait until he was able to fight against villains as Darkwing Drakey again. All he had to do was learn Quack Fu, build a few spy gadgets of his own, and get good grades, and he knew in his heart that he could be the best superhero St. Canard had ever seen. His father would be so proud…

He didn't make friends easily, but since learning a few things from Darkwing Duck, a real superhero, his self-confidence had grown. Even his mother had noticed, and had humored his newfound interests by enrolling him in Quack Fu. After three lessons, he was already dreaming of moving up to the next level – Gold – and Gail encouraged him thoroughly, smothering him with attention and compliments and assurances that he could do anything and be anyone he wanted, if he only tried. Drake relished his mother's praise.

Recess came, and Drake settled himself beneath the jungle gym while the other kids tumbled and climbed and shouted to one another, swarming around him like a hive of bees. He paid them little mind as a small notebook appeared in his lap, and he started making a Hero List.

Quack Fu Black Belt

Get Spy Stuff

Be Smart

…

Item four was interrupted as a shadow loomed over his bent form, and stayed there. He felt a coldness in the pit of his stomach, and knew that it wasn't one of the kids playing around him that had inadvertently blocked his light, but someone much more terrifying.

"Whatcha got there, Drakey?"

Lamont's familiar, taunting voice filled his small ten-year-old heart with dread. The notebook disappeared back into the folds of his vest. "Nothing," he responded, hoping the bully would just leave.

"Don't look like nothin'," Lamont retorted. "'Cause a you, I'm on probation for six months, an' my brother's in the cooler. I don't think that's very fair, now, do you?"

Without looking up, Drake countered quietly, "I guess you shouldn't rob record stores."

Lamont had him by the sides of his vest and up against the inside wall of the jungle gym in seconds. "What'd you say ta me?"

Drake could smell the older kid's hair gel, thick and greasy, and he tried to look down at Lamont without fear, but his voice betrayed him. "Look, I-I don't wanna fight you," he said, backpedaling. Now that physical retaliation was more imminent, Drake shrank back into his old self, before he'd met Darkwing. It was a side of himself that he hadn't missed, and hadn't ever wanted to revisit. But there it was, encasing him like a tomb.

Lamont laughed, his voice filled with scorn. "Guess you shoulda thoughta that before you showed up with that ridiculously dressed cat."

Drake raised an eyebrow. "He wasn't a cat, he was a duck…"

Lamont rolled his eyes. "I don't mean a _real_ cat, dweeb! I can't believe you're _that_ stupid! No wonder your daddy ran off!"

It had only been a month since Uncle John's visit to the Mallard home to bring the news of Jacob's disappearance, but information like that spread fast in St. Canard - especially where a celebrated SHUSH agent was concerned. Drake felt a surge of defiance rise in him at Lamont's comment, and it cut through the prison of his cowardice.

"My dad didn't run away!" he shouted, louder than he'd meant. "He's on a top secret mission for SHUSH! Nobody knows about it but me!"

"Uh huh. Riiiiiight," the older boy sneered, his leather jacket and boots creaking each time he shifted his weight in the gravel. "An' Elvis is a Martian!"

Drake's eyes widened. "Actually, I read in last month's _MAAD Magazine_ that Elvis is –"

"Shut up or I'll pop you one!" Lamont interrupted, drawing back his fist.

Drake covered his face instinctively just as a teacher's aide called out, "You boys stop fighting this instant!"

Her quick, authoritative footsteps came toward them, scraping against the pebbles like chalk on a blackboard. Lamont loosened his grip on Drake, who fell to the ground. "Later, dweeb," the other boy hissed as he ducked through the jungle gym and high-tailed it across the playground before the aide could catch him.

"Young man, you're coming to the principal's office with me," she said gruffly as she grabbed Drake by the upper arm and started to lead him out of the playground and back toward the school.

Drake protested and pointed over his shoulder. "But I didn't do anything! It was Lamont who –"

"I don't care who started it," the aide said firmly. "I won't tolerate violence of any kind!"

"B-but it wasn't –"

"_Or_ backtalk!"

Drake pursed his beak together miserably and let the teacher's aide drag him inside.

* * *

><p>"Drake Mallard, what on <em>earth<em> possessed you to get into a fight at school?"

"I didn't get into any fight, Mom, honest!" Drake reassured her earnestly.

His mother pursed her bill and began pacing around the kitchen, as she was prone to do nowadays. It seemed to Drake like she was always moving, always on edge, always checking outside or checking the mailbox or checking that the phone worked. Whenever they returned to the house after shopping or school, she cycled through all three activities with such intensity it made Drake inexplicably uncomfortable.

Finally, Gail finally sank into the kitchen chair next to him with a weary sigh and looked him in the eyes. "Honey, I'm not going to be mad. I just want you to tell me the truth."

"But I _am_! It wasn't even a fight, really, we didn't actually punch each other or anything. He was just _going_ to before –"

"Drakey, are these the same bullies your father talked to you about last year?"

Drake was silent for a few moments. Lamont wasn't the only one who picked on him. He was just the most threatening because of his older brother and his older brother's friends, and even though Lamont's big brother was now in jail, Drake still felt a certain sense of foreboding whenever Lamont came around. Drake had seen the value in what Jacob had suggested when his father had attempted to help him a few times prior to his disappearance, but he wasn't his father, and that fact alone had made him feel weak.

Part of him felt guilty that it had taken a real hero to help him stand up to Lamont and the rest of the gang, because he felt that by not following through on his father's advice, he had let Jacob down. Yet Drake also knew that Jacob had never known about his failure because he had been too afraid to admit it to him. He was grateful, in a way, for that.

As he looked through his mother's glasses and into her hazel eyes, Drake could feel the lie on the tip of his beak. It would have been so easy to pretend that he hadn't let the bullying last this long – that it was a different kid who was giving him grief. But the last thing he wanted right then was to let his mother down more by lying to her.

He swallowed the fib and nodded. "Yes…" Her face began to twist, and before she could settle on an expression, Drake continued, "B-but we weren't fighting! The aide lady stopped him before he could hit me. She just _thought_ we were fighting!"

His mother sighed and lowered her forehead into one hand. Instantly Drake felt guilty, and wondered if he shouldn't have gone with his first impulse. He didn't like seeing his mother upset, especially when he was the cause of it.

"Maybe you shouldn't be taking those Quack Fu lessons after all," she murmured distantly without looking up.

Drake felt his heart skip a beat. "No! I need those lessons!" His voice teetered on petulant, but he was so distressed by her comment that he hardly noticed. "You _can't _take me out of Quack Fu!"

"I don't know, Drake. I don't want you getting into any more trouble. I thought it would be a good outlet for you, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe we should try something else."

A surge of emotions he couldn't control suddenly boiled up in Drake's tiny body, and he practically shook. Tears stood in his light blue eyes, and he stared back at her with so much fierceness that he could see her eyes widen in response. "I _need Quack Fu_!" he shouted. "I _have_ to learn it! I _have to_!"

"Drake…" she said gently, almost fearfully. "Calm down…"

"NO!" He stamped his foot and roughly shrugged off the hand she'd placed on his shoulder. "You don't understand! _I have to be in Quack Fu!_"

"What don't I understand, sweetheart? Why are you getting so upset?"

"_I'm going to rescue Dad!_" he blurted out fervently, his voice rising above hers with a slight waver. "And I _can't do it_ if I don't know _Quack Fu_!"

Gail was silent for a few long moments, staring back at Drake. He could see the film of tears forming over her eyes, but he swallowed his guilt. She stepped toward him.

"Drakey…" Her voice sounded hollow and far away. It made Drake bristle even more, and he moved backward as she neared him. She didn't get it at all. "John has every agent he can out looking for your father. I know it's been hard, but I need you to be strong. You're still so young... There isn't any way you could find him on your own. It's too dangerous out –"

Drake shook his head violently, feeling his own tears rip into his voice. "No it's _not_, I can _do_ it! You always say I can do anything I put my mind to, and I _know_ I can help! I just…" As his emotions sucked the resolve out of him, the ten-year-old grew more quiet and limp, and he looked away from his mother's sympathetic gaze. "I just need to learn how, that's all."

There was another long pause, and Drake wanted more than anything to leave the room. Part of him felt lied to, because she was always encouraging him to follow his heart, but another part of him was letting the truth of the situation seep into his awareness. It was too much for him to face right now. He wanted to escape into the world of Duck Tracy and believe he could make everything all right despite his age.

"Look at me, Drake. Please."

When he didn't move right away, she cradled his bill in her fingers and guided his chin up. The tears were gone from her hazel eyes, but Drake could still see the sadness there.

"You're my little man. I need you here to help your sister and me. Your father can take care of himself…"

"I just want things to be like they were," Drake muttered morosely. "I want him to come home."

"So do I, sweetheart…we all do. But in the meantime, all we can do is hope."

"I'm _tired_ of hoping!" Drake fired back suddenly, pushing away from her. "I want to _do_ something, I want to help! Like Super Pig or Derek Blunt!"

Gail sighed and put her head in her hands. "I know, but –"

"And I'm going to, too! You'll see!" He turned on his heels and charged up the stairs toward his room. "I'll bring Dad back, and everything will be all right again!"


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note:** Another long time between updates. I'm afraid things in my life are pretty up and down, and I haven't had much inspiration on many of my fics. Please read and review, and hopefully I'll have more up soon, as time and imagination permit._

The house had been eerily silent for hours, but Drake had been too absorbed in packing to notice. His backpack was nearly full, and he went back over his checklist to make sure he had packed the essentials: comics, blanket, flashlight, squirt gun, pocketknife, the official Super Pig action figure, three shirts, underwear, nose-and-glasses disguise for when he ran into bad guys… He was halfway through zipping up the bag before he remembered that he would need to bring food along on his mission. He had refused to come downstairs for dinner that night, and his mother had thankfully let it go.

Darkness bathed the entire house. As stealthily as he could, Drake snuck down the hall toward the stairs, his ears poised for any sign of his mother and sister. Just when he was about to turn and begin his descent, his stomach betrayed him. The grumble was loud and seemed to echo in the empty air. Drake covered his abdomen with his arms, eyes wide and worried, and waited to see if he had been compromised.

Just when he was beginning to relax and started to take another step, an entirely different sound met his ears. Someone was crying.

He withdrew his foot and stood frozen in place for a few minutes, just listening. It wasn't that the situation was new. The sound of his mother's tears wasn't foreign to him, especially lately, but given the argument they had had earlier he immediately attributed it to that. He let the guilt finally wash over him, and he almost felt dizzy with the force of it. The thought of his mission faded from his mind, and he turned almost mechanically toward the noise. He drifted through the doorway of his parents' bedroom, and there he found a bent figure shrouded in the darkness with her head in her hands.

Again he paused and watched her for a few minutes, allowing the guilt to mingle with the sadness he felt seeping into him. He realized as he studied her that he had gotten his mission all wrong. It wasn't to keep his family together by rescuing his father and bringing him back; that was SHUSH's job. Drake knew as he finally approached his mother that his true mission was to keep his family's faith alive, to be the mallard he had always wanted to be for his dad. He had to stay here.

Wordlessly he put out a hand and touched his mother's arm. She gasped and jerked her head up to look at him, echoing the night they had heard the news of Jacob's disappearance. Drake watched his mother's face closely and felt his resolve to help shift from his father to his mother. Climbing onto her lap, he let his weight fall into her, and he nestled his face against her neck and upper chest, breathing her in. As her arms crept around him and cradled him against her, he allowed his own tiny arms to wrap around her as far as they could. Being in his mother's arms made him feel safe, and that was something he knew he couldn't give up even if it was to get his father back. 

* * *

><p>"I fixed that Drakey Mallard up real good, fellas," Lamont boasted as he smoothed his tall, wavy hair with a comb. School had let out a few minutes ago, but the group had been together loitering for the past hour outside of the building.<p>

"That's not what I heard," one of the other boys piped up with a sneer. "I heard ol' lady Ratzenoff busted you before you could even get a jab in."

"Oh, what's it matter anyhow?" Lamont shot back. "Fact is he's still skeered'a me."

The chubby canine next to him gingerly held out some strands of his hair, in the middle of which was tangled a wad of pink chew. "Hey Lamont, gimme that comb a sec, I – uh – got my gum stuck again." As the boy reached for the comb, Lamont reeled back as if the boy had just asked for his left kidney.

"You must be crazy, Yancey. This comb ain't gonna be touched by nobody but me till my big brotha gets outta the cooler. He gave it to _me_ for safekeepin', and I don't want you or any other'a you losers muckin' it up!" That said, Lamont made a point of running the fine-toothed plastic strip through his thick mane once again with a smug smirk.

Yancey pouted. "Aww, c'mon! That ain't fair! He won't mind! Give it here; I'll be real careful!"

Quick as a viper, Lamont shoved the other boy before he could grasp the comb. "No!" He glowered up at Yancey threateningly, his eyes angrier than ever. "_No one _touches my big brotha's comb! An' if _any_ of you try you'll get more than a little shock. Got it?" He shook his fist threateningly in each of the other boy's faces until they nodded in compliance.

Drake pulled away from the wall, his heart pounding in his ears. This was more than he'd hoped for when he'd come upon the gang hanging around the school grounds after class. He was grateful his mother had needed some extra time to finish some paperwork in her classroom before they went home. Now he had some information he may be able to use to his advantage.

The next day, Drake had a plan. After his mother had gone to bed and he'd unpacked his bag of mission supplies, he'd stayed up all night remembering the advice his father had given him last year that he had been too scared to take. Even though facing Lamont filled him with dread, he knew that he could do it. He'd done it once before and succeeded; the only difference was that this time he wouldn't have that guy in the purple suit or the red-headed girl to help him. He had tried for hours to keep the anxiety from his insides, but it was hard when he knew he would be alone. This was his test.

Putting together what he'd learned from the duck in purple and what his father had tried to teach him, Drake had an epiphany that suddenly flooded him with confidence. He didn't have to have the physical prowess to beat Lamont. He didn't even need Quack Fu. All he had to do was outsmart the bully. And he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

That afternoon on the playground, Drake was absorbed in the latest issue of _The Blunt Files_ when he heard obnoxious footsteps come to a stop directly behind him. He knew who it was before the derisive voice even reached his ears.

"A comic book?" Lamont sneered. "Those are for _babies_." He snatched the book from Drake's fingers and ripped it straight down the spine.

The duckling didn't react. Instead he continued to sit calmly on the swing he'd been reading on and turned to study Lamont. This infuriated the bully.

"I should go hurt-city all over your face, Drakey-Wakey. I almost got suspended 'cause'a you! Not that I care about missin' school."

"Yeah, you do that all the time, anyway," Drake replied evenly, willing himself not to turn and look down at his feet.

"You're sure talkin' big fer a shrimpy little loser, Drakey," Lamont said threateningly, grabbing onto the chains of the swing and leaning forward. His breath was hot and sour against Drake's neck and shoulder.

Drake stayed perfectly still and turned his head enough to keep his gaze level with Lamont's. They were mere inches apart. Although his body was reeling with anxiety and fear, he made a conscious effort to steel his nerves. Lamont glowered back at him.

"You think you can psyche me out? You ain't so tough without that purple pantywaist holdin' yer hand. Let me teach you a little lesson when you try to mess with Lamont King." The canine boy yanked the chains backward, nearly toppling Drake forward out of the seat. Before Drake could even consider jumping out of the swing, Lamont forcefully spun the seat around, and Drake found himself tangled in a mess of metal. His limbs stuck out awkwardly among the links, and he could feel a strand of chain pressing mercilessly against his scrawny neck. Lamont folded his arms and grinned smugly. "Me an' a couple other cats are hittin' up the Audubon Jewelry Store later. You better show up or I'll make sure you won't be lookin' so chill tomorrow. Dig?"

Drake couldn't get anything out aside from a couple of strained squeaks, but it was enough to satisfy his tormentor, who took off across the playground casually with his hands in his pockets. Even in his predicament, Drake smiled in triumph. Now he had everything he needed to get back at Lamont once and for all. 

* * *

><p>The comb's teeth bit into Drake's flesh like toothpicks, but he barely noticed. He had to time this just right, or it would completely backfire. All attempts he'd made to calm himself had done little to still his racing pulse and rapid breaths. He shook with anticipation as he waited for Yancey to enter the cafeteria. The boy had about thirty pounds on Drake, which didn't help Drake feel better about the possibility of being caught.<p>

Yancey had a different lunch period than Drake, and in order to follow through with his plan, Drake had had to skip social studies. He felt it was necessary despite the inevitable lecture he would receive from his mother. As the other half of the fifth grade poured into the hallways and followed the smell of tater tots, Drake steeled his nerves and scanned the many hungry faces for Yancey. It didn't take long because his target was near the front, shoving his way past the other children with the intent to be the first one served. Drake gulped and dared to step into the masses, hoping to get at Yancey, but instead he succeeded in becoming mashed into the carpet as his fellow students stampeded over him.

"Ouchie…" he groaned just before the last of the kids planted a sneaker into his lower back. For a few minutes he contemplated calling it a day and trying his plan again later, but something called up the image of his father, and he pushed himself to his feet. Bullies like Lamont couldn't be allowed to continue beating up on innocent kids and shop owners. Someone had to put a stop to it, and Drake knew that somehow he had to be the one to do it. Stealthily, Drake slunk toward Yancey, who was waiting impatiently for a slice of chocolate cake. The comb was still clutched in Drake's hand. As he neared Lamont's crony, the pounding of his heart grew deafening and his throat became completely dry. Shakily the comb made its way into Yancey's back pocket. Just as it slid into place, someone yelled, "Hey! No cuts, Drakey!"

The ten-year-old froze, blue eyes wide, and stared at Yancey as he turned toward the sound and then noticed Drake.

"Hey dweeb," the other boy drawled sardonically. "If you think I'm gonna let you in with me, you got another thing coming."

Before Drake could react, Yancey had him by the throat with a fist reeled back ready to strike. In the next instant, chocolate frosting and crumbs covered the side of Yancey's head. Both boys blinked in surprise, and it wasn't until Drake looked down at his chocolate-covered hand that he realized he had snatched Yancey's dessert and smashed it against the other boy's face.

"Food fight!" came a resounding cry. Seconds later the entire cafeteria erupted into a screaming frenzy and food cascaded through the air in a furious raid. Drake barely managed to escape Yancey's blow as a handful of spaghetti splatted across the other boy's face, momentarily blinding him. As soon as Yancey released his neck, Drake was crawling on hands and knees toward the door, avoiding most of the ammunition. He wasn't fast enough, however, to avoid one set of feet just inside the doorframe. While other teachers and staff attempted to quell the craziness, Gail was staring down at her son with her arms crossed and a brow raised. Instantly Drake felt his triumph deflate into guilt at the look on her face.

"This isn't what it looks like, Mom, hon-!"

"Drake, I don't want to hear it. I left my classroom to see what all the fuss was about, and here I see you skipping class."

"But Mom!"

"No buts, Drake. Principal's office. Now."

"Aww, gee whiz." Even as he hung his head and traipsed after his mother, Drake couldn't help but smile a little at what he anticipated would be in store for Yancey.


End file.
